Page:Dark Hester.djvu/86

the things we’ve raised such a dust to run away from! here they sit and smile at us!’

‘Isn’t it cosy,’ said Hester. She drew her blue linen sleeve across her forehead.

‘Cosy, my dear child!—that’s not the word for it! It’s balm!—not down! I revel in it! Simply revel!’ and snuffing his nostrils, as if assailed by sweet odours, Mr. Gales plunged himself into the deepest chair and then plunged out again as Mrs. Travers, perched at the top of the steps, looked down into the lower room calling out: ‘O Beppo—come and see!—Goldfish and black-lacquer and—oh the priceless little water-colours!’

‘We shall never look upon their like again,’ said Mr. Gales solemnly, gazing down, while Hester, at a little distance, surveyed him with a persistent gloom. ‘Hester, my darling, they give me an inspiration:—about that rather degraded little dining-hutch of yours at The Crofts.—I’ll paint you a row of Indian jokes; palanquins; elephants; ladies in bustles flirting—pour le bon motif—with cavalry officers under the deodars! Kipling, Empire and the Nineties! A wink for every meal! Cela vous sourit?’

‘Not at all,’ said Hester, sitting down at Monica’s tea-table. ‘I don’t like being winked at. Keep to La Boutique Fantasque idea. Robin would love that.’